


(An Excerpt from a) Voice of the Heart

by Loulouche, TiamatZX



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Episode: c02e086 The Cathedral, F/F, Gen, Mind Control, Snippets, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-15
Updated: 2020-11-15
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:34:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27580760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Loulouche/pseuds/Loulouche, https://archiveofourown.org/users/TiamatZX/pseuds/TiamatZX
Summary: "I wasn't in charge of what I was doing, if that makes any sense. I was completely aware, but I couldn't stop myself from doing it. I think probably every single day about that time in the cathedral with you. And I don't know what I would have done if anything happened to you because of me.""I knew it wasn't you, but, yeah, I can imagine. It actually sounds so much worse when you still have your own thoughts mixed with someone else's like-- probably be easier to just be lost."A "flashback" scene in a collab that me and Loulouche (louloutche on Tumblr) are working on, diving back to a truly painful moment for our aasimar barbarian and our expositor monk. Inspired by Isa Mocha's animatic of said moment from Episode 86: The Cathedral.
Relationships: Beauregard Lionett/Yasha Nydoorin
Comments: 3
Kudos: 46





	(An Excerpt from a) Voice of the Heart

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little snippet of a much, MUCH bigger collab between Loulouche and myself. She's the one who created the base of the story, and then I graduated from being a beta reader to a co-collaborator.
> 
> As for this "flashback scene", we were in the middle of brainstorming and writing another scene, and before I knew it, the muse within me came up with this! Essentially, what may have gone on in Yasha's mind when... THAT moment happened. Inspired by Isa Mocha's animatic of the moment in question: https://youtu.be/tLZi42n94DE
> 
> Please leave comments as to what you thought of this snippet.

_“She rejects the Angel’s embrace. And my embrace. You know what you must do, Orphan Maker. You must expel she who rejects Her guidance.”_

_“No! No, I can’t!”_

_But Obann is insistent. “Break the chain. Sever her thread. Kill her now. Do it for the Angel. For me.”_

_“No, please, gods, NO!”_

_She tries to get her body to move, and it does move, but not of her own accord. She feels just as much as sees herself approaching a badly wounded Beauregard, the Laughing Hand stunned from her relentless assault, and as the monk turns around she is left stunned herself, but in a different way._

_“Long time no see.”_

_Beauregard. Strong, smart, beautiful Beauregard. When last she saw her, she was clad in her garb from Rosohna and one of Captain Avantika’s coats, just as she is now. Only she is also now wearing a circlet that adorns her head and monk vestments similar to what she had before but more ornate, the clothes on top of numerous new scars indicating that something significant happened in her absence. Even in the midst of such a hellish battle, even when on the brink of collapse, she radiates an aura of confidence and strength. Perhaps the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen in so long._

_Two months too long._

_But the Orphan Maker doesn’t respond. Instead, her grip tightens around the Skingorger._

_“No! Beau, please! RUN!”_

_But Beauregard doesn’t run, her gaze momentarily drawn to the deadly greatsword held by the Orphan Maker, who uses the moment to charge towards her, intent on cutting her down as she had done to so many other monks of her ilk, those foolish mortals in cobalt blue garb who kept secrets from Obann and the Angel._

_She slashes forward, the monk barely dodging a cleave to the throat. She continues to leap and bounce but the Orphan Maker, already well aware of the monk’s skill in evasion, uses the momentum of one of her wide swings in a sudden remise that not only takes the monk off guard but delivers a clean, brutal hit to her midsection. The woman screams in pain and plummets to the floor of the cathedral, bleeding and only barely moving. The Orphan Maker advances._

_“No! No! NO!”_

_But despite her pleas, the Orphan Maker raises the Skingorger and brings it down, straight through the chest of her quarry. The monk’s eyes begin to dim as they stare right back at her._

_“No! BEAU! NO!”_

_The Orphan Maker just stares at the fallen woman, her own eyes wide and… tears? Are these the tears of the Orphan Maker? Or are they her own? And in that instant, she finds that she is unable to twist the Skingorger to finish her off._

_“NO NO NO! I CAN’T! I WON’T! Oh gods, forgive me!”_

_The Orphan Maker continues to attempt to twist the blade, but to no avail. What an annoyance, to be held back by this foreign essence in her mind, and yet she continues to cry, undaunted in her purpose as she withdraws the Skingorger from the chest of the monk, a gout of crimson bubbling out from the wound. But her eyes fall elsewhere, to the half-orc who fell under attack by the Inevitable End. And as she advanced, intent on finishing him next and feeling the faintest of relief as her own life essence was extracted--_

_CRASH!!_

_All of a sudden, thunder and lightning crashes down from outside the Chantry as the Orphan Maker feels an agonizing sensation at the base of her neck, screaming in pain and sorrow. begging Obann and the Angel to save her from this pain…_

_...and then there is silence. Sudden, immediate… cathartic silence. She can no longer hear Obann, can no longer feel the compulsion to kill in the name of the Angel, can feel her body beginning to respond to her own will once more, just as she hears a very familiar breath from behind her._

_Beau._

_And just as quickly, Yasha feels and hears an intense flame from behind her and the sounds of the Laughing Hand weakening until he too is silenced, followed by the telltale signs of a body rising from the ground. She dares to turn around, and sees her. She sees Beau, her Beau, standing with a still-bleeding wound in her chest, her long hair (it’d grown so much) loosened from the ongoing battle, her newer vestments torn and sullied with her own blood and shards of stained glass sticking to her skin. Wounded, exhausted, but still standing. Breathing._ **_Alive._ **

_Not long after, as they pursue Obann, she sheepishly approaches Beau and reaches out to heal her, but can’t stop her hand from shaking. Beau grabs her hand and holds it firmly in place, as Yasha mends what little she can._

_“It’s good to have you back. Like,_ back _-back,” Beau tells her, a very weak smile on her face, yet it’s a smile full of life._

**Author's Note:**

> Consider this just a taste of things to come. Believe me, the fic in its entirety won't be as intense. It will be intense but in another way, but also therapeutic.


End file.
